If I Fell

Gym Class

As it turns out, nothing needs to be justified because she takes the attention away from me by announcing a surprise quiz. There are some groans from around the room, but mostly the rustling of notebooks as people take a last glance at their notes before placing them away.

She gives me the option to participate or sit it out considering I haven't been here for the previous lessons. I opt in, since I could use the practice anyway.

It's as bad as I thought it would be. I even finish up a little early, and Colón let me leave after giving my quiz a quick once over, and handing me a slightly beat up textbook. I'm definitely out of practice, but my spanish is still more than serviceable. Elijah would be proud.

There's a loud squeak as I trip against the tiles. I ignore it and keep on my way to my last class, thankful the halls are still relatively empty.

The Gym is a standalone building, not hard to miss once I make it outside. The football field beside it boasts another "Home of the Spartans" sign, in case you didn't notice the one in the parking lot, or the office, or the hallways of the school.

As students file in through the door, they're greeted individually by the teacher. She somehow perfectly embodies the title "Coach", dressed in a tracksuit zipped up to her chin, metal whistle she swings back and forth on a lanyard, and dark hair ponytailed-under a yellow and blue dad cap. When she calls my name, it's much softer than I anticipated.

"Did you already pick up a gym uniform from the office?" she asks, nodding me off to her side so other students can continue to enter the gym.

"Uh, no. I didn't know that I needed one," I admit. No one mentioned a uniform, and I didn't even know that the school required one. Looking to the back of the gym, I can see a few people have already changed into what I'm missing, which ain't much. A grey shirt with the school logo splashed across the front, paired with dark blue sweatpants that read "Spartans" in yellow down the leg. A few have on what one of my former fosters would call pum-pum shorts, and others rock basketball shorts.

"It's alright, they usually pass them out when you get your schedule. Now that I think of it, we may not have any left this far into the semester."

I guess it makes sense considering the student population here isn't exactly fluctuating. I nod in understanding and try not to be disappointed. I'd been excited to exert the excess energy I've felt building up for the past few days, but it looks like I'll have to wait.

"I'm usually not supposed to allow anyone to participate unless they're in uniform, but seeing as how this is an oversight by the administration, I think I can make an exception. I might have some shorts in the office if you want to borrow them. Of course if you would rather sit out, I won't count it against your grade. My sister would never forgive me if I did"

Her face is kind as she attempts to divide her attention between me and the other students. I can't help but scrunch my brows in confusion when she mentions her sister.

"Oh, she probably hasn't thought to tell you yet with you're still settling in," she says, focusing her attention fully on me. With her facing me head-on, my mind makes the leap as the words leave her mouth, "Wendy Weber is my sister."

I can see now that they share the same face, though Mrs. Weber usually covers hers with a significant amount of makeup.

I know the realization must be expressing itself all over my face, because she starts laughing.

"You're welcome to call me Coach Karen while here at school. We can figure out the rest later when we're properly introduced."

I force a cursory smile, "Right. I actually brought my own change of clothes." I pull them out of my bag, and she gives them a once over. I'm glad I checked my schedule last night, otherwise I might be staring down somebody's used gym shorts. With an affirmative nod, she points me in the direction of the locker room.